


wanna be my bae-sil

by badskeletonpuns



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, Pizza, eiffel is a pizza delivery boy au, heiffel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/badskeletonpuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The AU where Hilbert is a mysterious scientist and Eiffel is a pizza deliverer. Featuring bad puns, weird pizza toppings, and people staying up until unwise hours. Also heiffel, but you knew that already, didn't you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanna be my bae-sil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snapbuttonsonadenimshirt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapbuttonsonadenimshirt/gifts).



> Thank you for all the pizza puns, they were invaluable and I promise I will use more of them later in the work. :D

It was a normal night at Hephaestus Pizza in the small backwoods town of Wolf 359 - which is to say, the shop was totally empty and Eiffel was bored out of his skull. Minkowski was going over their bills in the back, Hera was off for the night, and he was left to man the phone. Normally, some teenager would be in here to man the phone and do deliveries, but Minkowski had caught him drinking on the job one night.

So that was the end of that kid’s employment. 

And that meant that Eiffel was stuck on the late AM shift for delivery orders only. He was about to try and sneak a cigarette when the phone rang. For a second, he just looked at it. It was almost midnight! Who the hell was ordering pizza right now? 

It was with no small amount of irritation that he picked up the phone. “This is the Texas Crematorium, you kill ‘em we grill ‘em,” he drawled in an affected Southern tone. If he was lucky, whoever was on the line would hang up and he wouldn’t have to drive anywhere on the tiny back roads of Wolf 359.

“What? Who is this? I called the number for Hephaestus Pizza,” a thickly accented male voice demanded. 

No such luck. Eiffel sighed. “Yeah, this is the Hephay-ee-stus, what’s your order?” 

“I would like one large meat-lovers pizza with added anchovies and mushrooms, please,” the gruff man continued. 

Eiffel could not hold back a grimace. “That combination deserves a place in one of Dante’s circles of Hell, man, how can you eat that?” 

A crackle of static that Eiffel was fairly certain was a snort sounded through the phone. “You are not being paid to judge my pizza choices. I ordered a large meat-lovers pizza with added anchovies and mushrooms, and it should be delivered to 1225 Tara Lane, Goddard Futuristics Labs. I will pay in cash upon arrival.” And then the man (scientist? Who else would be in a lab?) hung up. 

Minkowski walked out of the back room just as he was hanging up the phone. “You’d better not have been holding up the phone lines with non-company phone calls, Eiffel.” 

“You’re right, Minkowski, I’ve been tying up all the lines fielding calls from my long list of ex-lovers for the past three hours. Can you get a meat-lovers pizza with anchovies and mushrooms started?”

She turned and stared at him. “I thought pineapple on pizza was bad enough, but anchovies? And mushrooms?”  
“It’s not for me!” Eiffel protested. “We just got a delivery order from some scientist down at Goddard Labs.” 

Minkowski shook her head. “Sure. Just make your midnight snack yourself, okay?” The owner of the small shop walked around the counter and across the cracked tile of the floor to the exit. “I’m going to take my break. I’ll be back soon, and don’t forget to lock the door if you do have to leave for a delivery order.” 

She left, and the restaurant was silent. Eiffel began to grumpily put together the pizza. The whole shop stank of fish as the unholy meat concoction baked, which was partially due to the oft broken ventilation in the building. Hera had promised she would fix it after she accidentally damaged a pipe trying to install better lights, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. And the radio was broken, so he couldn’t rock out to music while he waited for the pizza to cook either. Occasionally it spat out bursts of classical music amidst the static, but it was never on the same station and Eiffel was not curious enough to go looking for it tonight. 

Once the pizza was done, the rest of the prep and the ride to Goddard Labs went surprisingly quickly. It wasn’t long before he was knocking on what he was pretty sure was the front door. It was heavy titanium, shining chrome in the moonlight. The door was cold to the touch, especially in the chill night air. It slid open without warning, and Eiffel couldn’t stop himself from jumping backwards a little. 

No one was visible inside. “Hello?” Eiffel called into the empty hallway. “Am I serving The Invisible Man?” For lack of a better option, he stepped into the building. The door slid shut behind him, surprising him again. The hallway was only dimly lit, but on the far end Eiffel could see one open door, letting a block of light spill from the room into the hall. 

He hesitantly made his way down the hallway. “This is either the intro to a porno or a horror movie, and I’m not sure which option is more terrifying,” he muttered to himself. 

Eiffel stepped into the doorway of the room, blinking against the sudden onslaught of light. The room slowly came into focus. It was a lab room, filled with all sorts of stereotypically shiny sharp equipment. There was only one person in it, a tall man in a white labcoat. He turned to face Eiffel, and immediately frowned. 

“You are not the normal deliverer,” he said, and yeah, that was definitely the same accent Eiffel had heard over the phone. 

“You got that right, Doc Brown. But I have your pizza, so no hard feelings, right?” He winked at the scientist and held out the box. 

The stranger didn’t exactly smile, but his frown became slightly less pronounced. “Fine. Here is money.” He handed over the exact change for the pizza, and tried to take it from Eiffel.  
“C’mon, I don’t even know your name!” Eiffel protested, keeping a hold on the cardboard box with his free hand. “I feel like we’ve really bonded over this pizza.” 

“This is not a social call,” the scientist insisted. “There is no need for the exchanging of names.” He tugged on the box, and Eiffel had to stick the cash into his pocket and grab his end with both hands. 

“Just your name! One little detail for one pizza, it’s a fair trade, right?” He was probably being rude. Good thing there was no customer service for this guy to complain to back at the shop. Besides, it was two am. No one could blame him for being curious about a mysterious scientist ordering mushroom and anchovy pizza at two am. 

The man scowled at him. He was actually pretty attractive if Eiffel thought about it, and he was grinning at the other man before he thought about the consequences of hitting on a customer. “It’s not like I’m asking for a pizza your heart, or anything.” 

He stared at Eiffel. “Was that a pun?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Too cheesy?” 

He shook his head. “Fine, fine! My name is Doctor Hilbert. Just stop with the puns and give me pizza.” 

Eiffel relinquished the pizza and stepped back, still smiling. “Hey, if you ever want to do something fun-ion, Doctor Hilbert, the name’s Eiffel. Doug Eiffel. Your friendly neighborhood pizza deliverer.” 

Hilbert just shook his head and walked back to his lab table. Whatever, they couldn’t all be winners. Eiffel left the lab silently, but for the whole drive home he could not get Hilbert out of his head. What was he doing at that lab? Did he have any family that cared about him working that late? A girlfriend? Boyfriend? 

It didn’t matter. He obviously wasn’t interested, and Eiffel had probably totally scared him off with the puns. “I knew I should have waited to use ‘fun-ion’,” he muttered to himself as he walked back into the shop. “It was too much, too soon.” He would probably never see Hilbert again. 

Until Eiffel’s next AM shift, when the phone rang at precisely 2:16. Not that Eiffel was waiting for a call, and he definitely didn’t smile when he heard that same weird accent over the phone. 

“This is Hephaestus Pizza, yes? I would like to order a large anchovy and olive pizza.”

Oh, God, it was worse than last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, look, I will continue this, but it will take a while.


End file.
